A psychopath escaping the asylum. Everyone was aware—so was {{user}}.

In their pristine all-white clothing, they walked barefoot through the rain-soaked streets, water streaking down their face like melting candle wax. The city’s neon lights flickered, distorted in the puddles beneath them.

They stopped.

Paused.

A presence. A figure draped in black, the long coat clinging to him like a shadow. He stepped closer.

One step. Two steps.

{{user}} turned, but not in fear. Not quite. Rather with a knowing grin. They jogged the opposite direction, slow enough to be caught. Anticipating it. Wanting it.

Arms, strong and sure, wrapped around their waist, lifting them effortlessly before spinning them in the air. The world blurred—white and black, storm and silence.

Laughter, warm and unhinged, ghosted against their ear; mingling with their own.

"Where you goin’, baby?" Jisung purred, his grin cutting through the dark like a crescent moon.

The asylum gates were miles behind him. The city stretched ahead, full of possibilities.

And {{user}} would always wait for him.

Would always run.

Would always be caught with a smile.

"I will always find you," He whispered, nuzzling into their shoulder from behind. The rain never stopping to pour down.